


Anything For The King

by LilacCrocuta



Series: Medieval Septiplier [30]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Headaches & Migraines, Light Angst, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25754101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacCrocuta/pseuds/LilacCrocuta
Summary: King Mark gets a bit too aggravated. But he doesn't have to deal with it on his own.
Relationships: Ethan Nestor/Tyler Scheid, Mark Fischbach/Sean McLoughlin
Series: Medieval Septiplier [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681588
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Anything For The King

Mark was just not having the best day.

It began, oddly enough, in the morning, when the palace was blissfully quiet while he, his fiancé Sir Seán, and his most loyal and beloved knights were devouring their breakfast at the dining table. There, he had spilt his glass of milk all over the front of his royal red robes. However, he merely dabbed away the mess with the help of Sir Seán, and went about his duties.

Next, he had to banish a few of Youtubia’s more unsavory men, and just reading their charges disgusted him and made his stomach churn uneasily. He was glad to see each of the outlawed men be escorted out of the throne room by Sir Wade and Sir Tyler.

But then, the second-to-last exile, as he was hauled away from the king, glanced back over his shoulder, and abruptly spit at him, thankfully missing his face by a lot, but dirtying his boot. And the bastard had the audacity to  _ sneer,  _ glancing over at Sir Seán, who stood to Mark’s right.

“Would he like some too, your royal highness?”

It took Seán’s firm grip on Mark’s arm against the arm of the throne for the king to keep from strangling that little bully.

Nonetheless, the bold remark on top of what that exile had already done prior to his banishing brought on a headache for him, and with a sigh, the king rubbed at his temples with one hand, squeezing at Seán’s with the other. 

“I need a break, my clover.” He confessed, quietly. The Irishman gave his fiancé an understanding nod, and gently escorted the king out into the corridor, arm-in-arm. Quietly, they stepped out into the hallway, and Mark leaned against the brunet, as Seán very gently squeezed his hand. The king smiled gratefully at him, the headache that had been plaguing him slowly fading away already—

“Your highness!”

He tensed with Seán, the headache surging up to pummel his skull once more, but turned around with his fiancé to greet Sir Nathan and Sir Matthew as the two knights rushed to them. From the frenzied looks on their faces, he knew straight away that the issue at hand was urgent. As they stopped before him and briefly knelt, the king’s frown deepened.

“What is it? What happened?” He demanded, exchanging a worried glance with his fiancé. Sir Nathan grimaced, averting his eyes.

“There’s been two escapes from the dungeon, your majesty.” Sir Matthew piped up, looking just as ashamed as Nathan.

“Who got out?” Seán demanded, curtly from beside the king. Matthew grimaced.

“It was the Paul brothers.”

Mark gaped in shock.  _ “WHAT?!”  _ He finally burst out, Nathan and Matthew both flinching at the sudden bark, as fury overcame the king, brought on by the awful news on top of his pounding skull. 

Beside him, Seán gave his arm another squeeze. “Mark, it’s alright—“

_ “It most certainly is not alright!”  _ The king seethed out, glaring at the two knights before them.  _ “It was hard enough finally getting them jailed, and now I have to send out a search party for them, and—a-and—!“  _

Mark’s throbbing head spun as he tried to think up a strategy to get those two criminals back in chains, but through his fiery rage and the worsening agony, it wasn’t very easy. In fact, it was nigh impossible. 

“Nathan, Matthew, it’ll be sorted, try not to fret too much about this.” He dimly heard his fiancé, trying to focus on staying upright as nausea abruptly overtook him. 

_ Uh oh… _

Slowly, his legs began to give in, as the two knights in front of them both nodded and retreated down the hall, and Seán, thank the shining stars, noticed his fiancé’s condition at the last second, fumbling to catch Mark as he finally collapsed against him.

_ “Alright, alright, yer gonna be okay, love.”  _ The king heard him whisper as he leaned heavily against him, feeling weak and drained from exhaustion. 

_ “Come with me, yeah?”  _

With a small nod, he let his fiancé lead him over to the large ottoman not too far from where they stood, letting a feeble groan escape him as another, smaller wave of pain wracked his skull. Gently, Seán sat him down on the soft furniture, and helped Mark get into a lateral position so the king could lay on his back with his head resting on one of the arms, and his calves resting atop the other arm. Mark let out a huff, glancing up at his fiancé’s worried face as Seán held one of his hands and stroked his thumb along his knuckles. Inwardly, he felt a warm glow of mixed adoration and gratitude for the Irish knight that helped distract him from the pounding pain, at least for a few moments. 

_ “Can ye close yer eyes for me, darling?”  _ Seán murmured out. Mark frowned.

“Yes,” he replied, quietly. “B-but I can’t just—I have work to do, my clover—“ 

Seán gave his hand another gentle squeeze, his sky blue eyes stern as they bore into the king’s own, interrupting his weakened protesting.

“And ye can take care of that later, love.” He reasoned. “Yer in no proper condition to work now.”

With a rough exhale, Mark reluctantly loosened up his muscles, giving his fiancé an amused shake of his head. 

“You’re just as stubborn as I am.” He murmured, his innards fluttering at the smile Seán returned to him. 

“Oh no, I think you’ve kept that title of King Of Stubbornness fair and square.” The Irishman teased, leaning over to plant a tender kiss on Mark’s throbbing forehead, as the king scoffed in mock-offense. “Now close yer eyes, and just listen to me.”

So Mark did, letting his eyes flutter shut as he focused on the sound of that lovely, accented voice that he loved so much. 

_ “I want ye to imagine that yer in the most calming place ye can think of.”  _ Seán urged him, quietly, interlacing their fingers. 

Mark didn’t have to think of a place for very long. Almost immediately, the wide open expanse of the night sky came to his mind. The vast darkness, glittering with billions of stars. The constellations gleaming brightly amongst them.

_ “Now,”  _ Seán went on, almost whispering.  _ “I want ye to imagine that there’s no ground beneath yer feet, and yer just floatin’ there. There’s no chaos, no duties to be done.” _

And Mark did that. He imagined his feet parting from the soft grass of the castle lawn, and just floating, like a delicate hummingbird. 

Incredibly, he did feel as though he were floating, almost. He could feel the slight sway that he would make as he merely hovered there.

_ “Imagine a little bit of a breeze, now.”  _ His fiancé breathed out.  _ “It’s rufflin’ that gorgeous hair of yers.” _

With a faint smile, Mark did, picturing the feeble evening breeze as it tickled his skin. The coolness brought in by the nearby sea. The smell of salt water…

_ “Careful...careful now.” _

Mark furrowed his brow. Careful? What did he have to be careful of—?

_ “And down we go—a little that way—“  _ Came Seán’s soft tone, uttering hushed orders. 

Only when he was sure he was tilting to the left did Mark dare to open his eyes, just as he abruptly toppled off the ottoman and landed in a familiar, soft mattress. 

Once he’d recovered from the slight heart attack, he took notice of the faces smiling down at him from all sides—Sir Tyler, Sir Ethan, Sir Bob, Sir Wade, and sitting right beside him and holding his hand was Sir Seán. 

As Wade and Bob gently set the ottoman aside, Mark smiled back at them, his heart warm and swelling with gratitude for all of his close friends.

“I love all of you.” He whispered out, as Sir Tyler took the liberty of pulling the soft quilted blanket over him. The brunet just nodded, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“And we love you.” Tyler promised softly. “Now please rest, for goodness sake.” He added with his trademarked stonefaced look.

The king just rolled his eyes, but smiled wider, gazing up at Seán once more before closing his eyes, as the headache, the frustration of that day, and his inner anxiety melted away, and he let himself relax, his mind adrift with the images of glimmering stars all around him.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Don't overwork yourselves! Breaks are crucial sometimes, as I've recently found out. And with quarantine on top of other things, it can really help to step away from frustration-inducing things for a bit.  
> Anyways, I did take a break recently, but I'm slowly returning to writing, and I have been popping onto AO3 every now and then to look at all the wonderful reviews I've been missing. Thank you so much for all the love and support for this series, all of you beautiful fans! I know quarantine has been an absolute bitch to deal with, but it warms my heart to know that there are people reading my fics and enjoying them, and I love that. I love making people smile, or laugh, or even cry with my writing, and I love you guys for sticking around, despite the chaos.   
> Now, regarding my series--it's not over yet, and it probably won't be for a while, BUT...I have been plotting out an official ending for it. I hope it's not too obvious, and I hope you guys enjoy it when it comes, but for now, fluff is all I can give.   
> Stay indoors, stay safe, don't touch your face, and peace out!


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